A Casual Spin
by Dreamer1920
Summary: A warm breeze, an old truck from Texas, flirty yet friendly interactions - it's the perfect summer evening for a nice, casual ride under the sea, right? Or will things turn out not so casual after an hour on the road?


**Hi! Some of you are probably wondering why this story disappeared and is back now. Well, let's just say I wasn't confident in how I wrote it for a while, and I deleted it, but I've changed my mind. It's all the same; nothing has been rewritten. Just thought I should put that out there in case you might've been curious.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**A Casual Spin**

_~French Narrator~_

"Ah, a peaceful summer afternoon fading to evening in Bikini Bottom. You see, all of the seasons underneath the ocean waves are special in their own ways, but most could not compare to the soft, warm sensations that this time of bright sunshine and lovely sunsets brought to the home of our favorite sea creatures. Oh, speaking of them – here comes SpongeBob SquarePants and his best friend, Patrick Star! Let us see how they have been enjoying their time together on this quiet day."

"Boy, that was _some_ game of Jellyfishing out there, Patrick. I didn't think it'd be possible for your net to get as full as it did!" SpongeBob said in a happy tone, strolling down the road alongside his pink blob of a friend.

"Yeah," Patrick replied with a tilted smile that quickly dropped into a look of mild concern. "_**I**_ didn't think it was possible for a person's thumb to get this big." He lifted his right hand and revealed the horrible damage done to the opposable digit; giant, red, throbbing, and shaped like a mixture between a hot air balloon and a raindrop. It was comparable to the time when SpongeBob had tripped, fallen and gotten a large splinter lodged inside his own thumb – except this wasn't as nauseating to look at as that incident was, many years ago.

"Yeesh…" SpongeBob's face cringed, "well, I did try to warn ya what a bad idea it was to bounce on your net, like an exercise ball with the jellyfish inside of it."

"Aww, but I was gettin' bored! And besides, I love a good game of dodgeball!" he said excitedly, biting his bottom lip and clenching his left hand that was un-injured.

"You played **dodgeball** with them, too?! Gosh, no wonder they got so angry and stung the life out of your poor thumb. And how was it even possible for you to play it correctly with me being the only other person there?"

"Pffft," Patrick scoffed, rolling his dark eyes. "It's easy, SpongeBob: you've never played a real game of dodgeball until you've played it with jellyfish."

"So… you mean you were throwing jellyfish… **at** jellyfish?"

"Well, yeah, duh."

Their blank eyes stayed on each other for a good three seconds before SpongeBob proved, once again, that his common sense came and went faster than Plankton entering the Krusty Krab, only to get flicked out moments later by Mr. Krabs. "That's awesome!"

"I know! _Ow_…" Patrick winced due to the sudden, noticeably loud pulsating of his thumb. Four feet skidded to a stop on the asphalt, creating the sound of screeching car tires.

With the sky approaching nightfall as the sun went down in front of them, SpongeBob knew it was a good time for his ol' pink pal to go back home to his rock and plop down in his sandy living room chair to relax after their exciting day of playing some board games at the pineapple, building sandcastles at Goo Lagoon (with Patrick somehow accidentally burying himself under the sand a few times), playing leapfrog, blowing bubbles and, of course, Jellyfishing. It had been a truly wonderful day for the two best friends; things couldn't get any cooler.

It was the middle of summer, and it was taking its sweet time passing by, which made them as happy as ever. This season was a bucket full of fun, and they would never want it to end.

Well, Patrick did wish the _pain_ in his thumb would end, but that wasn't something a little patience and treatment couldn't take care of.

"Ooh," SpongeBob leaned in toward Patrick and pressed his porous side against him, patting him comfortingly on his flabby back. "I think it's about time for you to go home, buddy. You really should put that thing on ice or something."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Uhh…" Patrick stared up toward the sky, trying to think, which was never easy for him. "But what if that doesn't work?"

"Then some ointment ought to do the trick!" SpongeBob said, smiling cheerily while closing his eyes and planting his hands on his hips.

The gears inside Patrick's brain turned and creaked until an image of his bathroom cabinet popped into his thoughts. "Oh, I know! I just remembered I have half a tube of diaper rash cream at home! Thanks a lot for bringing it up in the first place, SpongeBob!" he smiled.

SpongeBob's face, though it was mostly satisfied, was also showing that sign of confusion it often displayed whenever he couldn't comprehend the strangeness of the things his friend did or said. "You're welcome, Patrick, but… ahem," he cleared his throat, "I don't know if that's the best kind of ointment to use on your thumb. Don't you have anything else?"

"Mmm… nope, I'm pretty sure that's the only cream I have," Patrick shrugged. "It can only do me good…" a knowing smirk curved his lips as he leaned and cupped a hand near his mouth to speak into SpongeBob's earhole. "It's good for a lot more things than just a post-wipe."

Ah, Patrick and his disturbing use of toilet humor.

He _was_ being humorous… wasn't he?

"Okay, well, good luck with that, friend," SpongeBob said, smiling and being oblivious to how creepy it sounded when Patrick had whispered to him. "After that, be sure to get a _good_ night's rest, so you'll be recharged for whatever it is that tomorrow brings."

"Oh," Patrick chuckled and smiled with bliss, thinking about how many food-related dreams he would be having. "That won't be a problem for me. Come on, the faster we get home, the faster I can doze off and dream about those jelly-filled doughnuts!" he urged SpongeBob by running forward and pulling his skinny, yellow arm; stretching it out like a piece of chewing gum.

"Oh, you go on ahead of me, Patrick," SpongeBob said in a relaxed, friendly voice. "I think I'll just stay out here a while and enjoy this _beautiful_ sunset on this _glorious_ evening." Glancing past Patrick, his eyes lit up like the stars that were beginning to appear as he took in the amazing orange and yellow hues of the last glimpse of the underwater sun. "Ahh, the beauty of summer," he sighed.

"Hm, okay."

"BAH!" SpongeBob yelped and flinched once his arm flew back and smacked him in the face after Patrick had let go of it.

"Suit yourself, SunsetPants. Goodnight!" With that, Patrick began to walk off.

"Okay!" SpongeBob giggled and waved the hand that was attached to his now-elongated arm. "Goodnight, buddy! Sleep tight! Don't let those pesky nematodes bite!"

"There's nematodes in my bed?!" already one-hundred feet away from his yellow friend, Patrick turned around swiftly, giving SpongeBob a look of fear that he could barely make out.

"No, no, Patrick!" he shook his head, "I-it's just an express— "

"AHHHH-HA-HAAA! **OOF!**" in the process of running away and screaming, the sea star tripped and fell over a rock, landing facedown on the harsh pavement. Seconds later, he jumped to his feet and took off again, raising his arms and panicking.

It was no wonder SpongeBob would often worry about that starfish; after all, he took things literally when they were actually figurative, and vice versa.

Neptune, help the poor boy.

Sighing and reshaping his wiggly arm, SpongeBob proceeded down the road as slow as his pet snail would. _Gee, I sure hope Patty isn't gonna have nightmares involving nematodes now._

The squeak of his black shoes filled his ears and the water, as he kept his head straight and stared at those naturally radiant colors that were fading almost completely into the horizon.

The soothing warmth of the salty ocean enveloped him. He inhaled deeply, feeling the comforting tingle of the seawater rushing through his pores.

If one listened in closely, they could hear the distant music of _Aloha_ _Oe _playing somewhere throughout the waves. It made the world feel like a tranquil fantasy that was foggy yet still so vivid.

Breaths of calm happiness escaped him. "Ah. Gosh, this is so peaceful, it makes my heart just… _flutter_." His face stayed pleasant as he continued walking. He stopped and stood as still as the water, staring at the sand mountains that were far away. "How could it get _any_ better than this?"

The sound of metal hitting the ground wasn't exactly the best way for his question to be answered, but when he looked to his right, the universe quickly corrected it with something much more satisfying and intriguing.

Standing with her head under the hood of a large, dark blue truck that didn't appear to come from anywhere in the sea, was none other than Sandy Cheeks. With her Treedome becoming as dim as the falling night, she used a flashlight to see into the engine of the strange-looking vehicle.

"Ugh, dagnabbit! Come here, ya slippery, little varmint!" she cursed as she knelt to pick up the large wrench that kept sneaking out of her hand when she wasn't being careful. "Whew!" she stood up, wiping away the sweat that was, quite oddly, dripping from her helmet.

SpongeBob watched her with much curiosity, placing a finger against his lip. _Hey, there's Sandy! Mm, I wonder what she's doing with that old truck. It sure is unusual looking. Maybe I'll go check it out._

SpongeBob reached her area of work in no less than ten seconds; his square shadow slowly casting itself over the bed of the truck. Though her head was still down and futzing with the engine, he offered her a kind smile anyways. "Hiya, Sandy!"

"YAH!"

"WAH-WHOA!"

His arms flew around his face, and his body tilted backward to protect himself from the wrench that she was pointing at him like a deadly weapon.

Sandy stood in a karate stance, one leg in back of the other while she hunched forward and was ready to toss the tool if need be. Her face then relaxed when she realized that this trespasser was her little, yellow buddy, who was trembling and filled with fright.

"P-p-please, don't hurt me, Sandy. I mean no harm! A-and I'm unarmed! Really, a-all I have in my back pocket is a used napkin and some of Patrick's old bellybutton lint!" he shakily spoke, still in the same position and keeping his eyes closed as if that was going to prevent any attack she might throw at him. He then opened his eyes, looking out into space as an important thought entered his head. "Well, I do have my Jellyfishing net too, BUT I DON'T USE IT FOR VIOLENCE, I SWEAR!"

"Oh, calm down, SpongeBob!" she exclaimed, letting out a small chuckle and picking up her red toolbox. She wanted to question why a person would carry someone else's belly button lint in their pocket – let alone _any_ bellybutton lint – but then she remembered that this was SpongeBob SquarePants, whose behavior was almost never even _slightly_ normal. The same thing went for Patrick.

"S-so, you're not gonna… beat me over the head with that thing?"

"Of course not! I just thought you might've been some creepy, uninvited guest lurkin' around when I first heard ya. I couldn't help but feel that way after Patrick came runnin' by earlier and screamin' like he was ready to bomb someplace." She pushed the old, rusty hood of the truck back down and used the back of her sleeve to rub away the black oil that was smeared across her helmet.

"Heh, heh, yeah. T-that was… my fault he did that, actually." Fully understanding that there was no danger of getting his skull smashed in (if he even _had_ a skull), SpongeBob walked closer to her, stopping when he reached her side.

"Really? What'd ya say that made him go bonkers?"

"Well, let's just say he doesn't take too well to expressions nowadays, heh. It had to do with— "

"Eh, say no more," she put a hand up to silence him. "Ya don't have to go out of your way to explain anything that that critter understands. Mm…" she rocked her head from side to side as she gave her words more thought. "Or _doesn't_ understand, really." She knew the starfish to be the dictionary definitions of 'misunderstanding' and, of course, 'stupidity'. But at least it was harmless stupidity – _most_ of the time.

"Hm," he chuckled, "yeah, you're right. So, uh…" he rocked back and forth on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling. "What's the story behind this… big, blue monster? Heh, where'd you get it?" he nodded to the truck.

Sandy's whole face grew into a nostalgic smile as she patted the vehicle on the roof like it was a pet hound dog. "Why, this ol' girl's from nowhere other than Texas, SpongeBob. It belonged to my pa for the last fifteen years; he'd drive it around on the old, cracked streets and through miles of open land."

"You mean this comes from the surface world?" he asked with amazement, stepping forward and moving his hand across the shiny door with white scratches on it that had been made over time.

"Yup! Sometimes he'd use it for work, and other times just for the sake of havin' some good, old-fashioned fun, like takin' us out to rodeos or drivin' down highways just to get a feel of the fresh air."

"Wow, that's so cool!" he beamed, enjoying the squeaky sound it made when his hand rubbed against the painted steel. "But how in the name of Neptune did your dad get it down here?"

She placed her hands on her hips, observing how taken he was with the Texas treasure. "Simple: I left an old jetpack hangin' around back home, along with a parachute. He sent it down here _real_ quick after he decided he didn't want it anymore. He's got a brand-new one now; says it's big, red and has an engine that purrs like a dream!"

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for something so impossible like a jetpack and parachute being strapped to a 2,000 lb truck so that it could blast off and float down safely in front of the Treedome. After all, there were things such as underwater fires in this universe.

"That was so nice of your dad to give it to you, Sandy," he finally leaned back and looked up at her.

"It sure was. I just received it this mornin' and have been workin' on it nonstop all day. Woo-wee! Nothin' like fixin' up an ol' bucket of bolts to make ya work up a sweat."

"Well, I imagine you must've stayed pretty comfortable while doing it," he pointed at her clothing, just now noticing that she wasn't wearing her air suit.

She wore a plain button-up shirt made of denim, with a long shirttail that covered part of her tail, as well as the loose, navy-blue jeans that came all the way down to her ankles. And on her feet was a pair of old, light blue sneakers that were as dirty as a pig in need of a bath.

She looked down at herself, a little smile dancing across her lips. "Yeah. I found these old things on the seat of the truck when I opened the door. I'm guessin' it was my ma's idea to surprise me with 'em. And boy, oh boy, was I surprised!" she smiled broadly. "This was my favorite getup to wear in my high school days."

"Oh, that's nice." His smile grew as he kicked around the sand in amusement of his own humor that he was ready to entertain her with. "I remember back in _my_ high school days when I used to wear a… well, **this**," he gestured towards his signature square pants.

Sandy cleaned her hands with a filthy, stringy rag and laughed in her usual cutesy way.

When she looked down at him with an unexpected, warm and pleasant smile, he was instantly filled with a calming wave of delight. Whenever she gazed at him like that, it left him with a small clue of the things she was thinking about him; from the looks of it, they were very friendly yet quite _fuzzy_ thoughts.

It was lovely to know that his feelings were most definitely reciprocated, even if she didn't say anything out loud. All they had to do was look at each other, and the sparks flew everywhere, much like the fireworks that were set off every Fourth of July.

"So," she placed the rag inside the toolbox and smiled casually at him. "Would y'all wanna go for a spin in the ol' girl? It's the perfect night with the Moon comin' out and all," she looked up at the deep blue sky where the huge, iridescent planet began to appear, encouraging him to look there as well.

His blood sizzled with enthusiasm as he clenched his fists and jumped up in the air. "Oh, boy! Would I?!" he bit his lip and grinned at her with hope. "Can I drive?"

"Why, sure! That'd be just— _**hey**_…" she peered at him suspiciously after she almost handed him the long, discolored key to the truck. "I thought y'all didn't have a license..."

"…I don't. Bahahahahaha!" he held onto his stomach and burst into laughter, shutting his eyes tightly. "I was just messing with ya, San-day." He poked her in the arm with his elbow, which made her sigh deeply and shake her head with a crooked smile.

Technically since the truck was from the surface and wasn't a boat mobile, SpongeBob didn't really need a license to drive it. Which was similar to the time when he and Patrick had taken the Patty Wagon to get to Shell City, and SpongeBob had informed Patrick that a person didn't need a license to "drive a sandwich." However, Sandy knew better than to let him get behind the wheel with his recklessness, whether he had an official document with his name on it or not.

He felt accomplished that he was able to charm her so easily this evening, and it only seemed to continue working as she jumped into the driver's seat next to him. "Well now, aren't you just _so_ clever, SquareBrain?"

"Tee-hee," he giggled, "I suppose I am, Miss Cheeks. And thanks for the new last name you suggested there. I'll have to change it to that when I find my birth certificate, bahahahaha!"

How could someone's laughter both be so unbearable and darling?

"Oh," she rolled her eyes playfully, starting the loud and clunky-sounding engine by putting the key into the ignition. "Just buckle up and be quiet before I kick ya out and run ya over with this thing."

* * *

_One long drive later…_

The old, beaten-up truck tires rolled along an empty road that was centered between stretches of endless, pale sand, glowing dreamily as a result of the glimmering Moon and other astronomical objects gleaming down upon it.

SpongeBob stared up out of the open sunroof; his eyes focused intensely on the passing berry-blueness that was the sky. Though it was mostly clear, a few light trails of fog and flowery clouds still moved gracefully on the breeze high above them.

The gentle, warm wind blew downward and against his face as he brushed his fingers along the rough material on the door next to him.

He wished he could do much more than just smile at this mesmerizing sight. The thought of going back to Jellyfish Fields and laying out on the soft grass sounded like a better way to bask in this beauty. But he wasn't the one in control of the wheel.

He had thought about asking Sandy to take him there, but he could tell that she was enjoying the silence between them.

But then he became glad when she finally decided to break it.

"Wow, look at that sky, SpongeBob," Sandy said, leaning forward in the ripped-up leather seat and staring out the front window. "Ain't it just prettier than a shiny, new rodeo trophy?"

"Haha, I guess so." He looked over at her. "But I wonder if rodeo trophies are shinier than the ones they make down here for the annual snail races. You know, Gary was in one once! But he was disqualified," he shook his head upon remembering the time that he worked his pet snail to death so that he could win that race many years ago. "Poor little guy."

"Oh, I think I remember that! Wasn't that the time I came by and kicked ya in the butt so hard ya flew all the way back home?" she glanced at him, keeping the steering wheel steady.

"Bahahaha!" he laughed, nodding. "Yup, that was it. I've still got the bruise." He lifted himself up slightly in the seat, rubbing his backside.

"Well, I said it back then, and I'll say it again: that's for yesterday, SquarePants!"

The two shook with more jolly laughter at the hilarious memories they shared.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! _Ahh_," SpongeBob's giggles died down and he sighed, wiping away a tear. "Say, Sandy, come to think of it, what did I say that made you kick me in the first place?" he asked, looking to his left again and keeping his eyes on her.

Sandy took in a deep breath and stared straight ahead, trying to chase down the rushing river of her memory, but was unable to trace anything. "Ya know, to this day, I still don't know." She turned her head towards him; brown eyes locking with blue for as long as possible before she had to look at the road again. "But what I _do_ know, is that I always enjoy kickin' your butt any chance I get."

Her teasing smirk almost made him ignore how much her statement reminded him of Flats the Flounder, whom he had met at boating school years in the past.

If she wanted to play this game, then she'd have to make room for a second participant. He wasn't going to let her have _all_ the fun tonight. "Oh, is that so?" he raised an eyebrow, shooting back a smirk that was brattier than the one she had given him. "Well, Sandy, do you know what _I_ always really enjoy?"

"Losin' to me in karate?"

If Gary were there right now, he would be applauding the squirrel for her roasting skills.

"Bahahahahahaha— **no."**

Sandy knew that even though his friendly demeanor dropped, and his tone became bland in this instant, it wouldn't be long before he would offer her a slice of smug pie served on a plate made entirely out of his inflated ego.

"Well, alrighty then," she chuckled with caution. "What is it that you enjoy so much, SpongeBob?"

"Spending time with one of my _bestest _friends."

Well, it seemed he had changed the rules of the game.

What he had just said was dangerous as heck, because it snatched her attention away from the road and managed to wrap it around him like a big birthday present.

His smile slowly returned as he gazed at her. The Moon shining down on him like a romantic spotlight made his crystal-blue eyes sparkle like a combination of the Sun reflecting off the waves during the daytime, and the stars that twinkled at nighttime.

This little, naïve creature that she had known for over twenty years never lost his ability to touch her on the inside. Though he could be a pain in her side, she admired him deeply for his innocence and pure heart. A world that was beautiful in many ways but could still be as dark as a never-ending abyss could've used more souls like him.

He could be a big ball of headache-inducing trouble, but in the end, he was worth it.

Her smile was so warm and stuck on her face, there was nothing that could remove it.

"Sandy, look out!"

Nothing except the wild snail slithering across the road.

She whipped her head back in front of her in the nick of time.

"AHHHHHH!" they screamed until she slammed her sneaker into the squealing, old brake, jolting them to a stop that nearly knocked both of them through the windshield.

They panted heavily, staring with wide eyes as the small creature with stripes and an orange shell made its way to the other side.

SpongeBob gripped onto the seat like the edge of a cliff. "Ah, ha, ha!" he laughed nervously, a few drops of sweat trickling down his forehead and cheeks. "Imagine how this would've turned out if **I **had been the one behind the wheel!"

"Well, one thing's for… sure…" she gulped, sucking up the oxygen in her helmet, "that critter wouldn't be the only one deader than a Texas bar on a Monday night."

* * *

"Okay, Sandy," SpongeBob sighed, "I give up. Where are we going?" he asked with a smile while playing with his fingers.

They had been riding around for about an hour, and Sandy had finally suggested that it would be pleasant to stop somewhere and gaze up at the sky.

SpongeBob tried to play the guessing game of naming potential places that she planned to go to – one of them being Jellyfish Fields, which he had been meaning to ask her to go to himself. But it wasn't an option for her because it would've required her to drive back many, many miles past her Treedome; it just seemed like too much trouble, seeing as how it was getting rather late.

He made countless more guesses, having her shoot down each one like flinging acorns from a slingshot at a pyramid of tin cans.

"It's about _time_," she teased, relieved that he had thrown in the towel. "It's somewhere _pretty_ special."

"Ooh! 'Special', huh? Where is it, Sandy? I'm just _dying_ to know!"

"Make-Out Reef."

"Ohh," he smiled, shutting his eyes. "Okay! Hmmm..." he hummed, leaning back slightly as if the the words hadn't truly entered his head yet, which they _didn't._

How long would it take for thoughts of realization to hit him like a freight train?

Five seconds? Ten seconds? A minute? An _hour_, maybe? There was no telling with how slowly he sometimes processed things.

_**Three**__…_

_**Two**__…_

_**One**__…_

Both fortunately and _unfortunately_, it hit him faster than he could handle.

His eyes popped open with shock. "Wait… d-did you say… M-M-Make-Out… Reef?"

"Yessiree! Why, I hear it's the best place in the whole city to do stargazin', other than Jellyfish Fields."

It was also the best place for fish folks to unwind and participate in naughty deeds.

"T-that's great, S-Sandy, but are you sure— "

"It'll be nice! We'll have a good old time."

A good old time looking at the wonderous sky, or was it possible she meant something _else _besides that?

"Ha, ha… y-yeah. T-this ought to be," he gulped, **"great."** He shifted in his seat as sweat poured down his face like a waterfall. The only thing he could do to ease the tension building within him was to stare out the window.

…_Does… does Sandy wanna… __**make o**__**ut**__?!_

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**A/N: Oooooh! Things just got ****real,** **lol. Now, of course, I know there are the issues of them being underwater and she's wearing her helmet and all that – don't worry, I'll have those taken care of, haha. This originally was going to be a one-shot, but at the end here, I decided this would be a cool twist. Anyways, the conclusion will be coming shortly! **


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